


(we'll make the same mistakes) 'til the morning breaks

by truthbealiar



Series: try to get to heaven (on a night like this) [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 20:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19363882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthbealiar/pseuds/truthbealiar
Summary: Theon had never been tempted by a friends-with-benefits relationship before. But full offense to Robb and Jon, they weren't half as stunning as Sansa fucking Stark.- or -Theon's never been good at making decisions.





	(we'll make the same mistakes) 'til the morning breaks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kattyshack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyshack/gifts).



> Dedicated to [Maj](http://dancemajicdance.tumblr.com), because she's wonderful!
> 
> Required listening: Bad Decisions (Bastille)
> 
> Series title: Those Nights (Bastille)  
> Title/chapter title: Bad Decisions (Bastille)
> 
> This can be read as its own fic, however I recommend you read [fall through heaven (straight to hell)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19322167) first!

# love me, leave me / rhythm of the evening

## october (sophomore year)

* * *

 

They didn't fall into a natural routine. Theon Greyjoy had never had any sort of routine in his life. One semester he had even accepted a bet with Robb, and selected his class times not based on convenience or professors, but by throwing darts at the minuscule time slots, meticulously colored and impossible to see from where Theon stood to take aim. He had wound up with two night classes, an eight am, and a class that rotated between mid-morning and mid-afternoon every other day. It made scheduling for work an absolute _bitch_  to deal with, but Yara had long grown used to her brother's inability to keep anything closely resembling a day planner. 

(He actually had one now, and one that he _used_ , but more often than not he just wrote the various appointments and obligations down, and promptly forgot all about them.)

So they didn't have a routine. But they had something close enough.

Sansa was in the dorms, with a Margaery Tyrell. Theon had met her a couple of times, and apart from realizing he could never allow her to meet his sister - even if that meant hanging around pricier bars and not getting the friends and family discount - she wasn't too bad. But she was more dramatic than the whole lot of Starks, and that was truly saying something, considering the funeral Arya had hosted for Robb's dignity after he had mistakenly sent nudes intended for Jeyne to his father. Everyone had been dressed to the nines, and the eulogy Bran had given actually moved Rickon to tears.

(Theon had found out after the fact that both Bran and Rickon had been high as a pair of kites, but that was neither here nor there.)

With a roommate like that, sometimes Sansa just needed a breath of fresh air. That was how she put it, though the odd little group all loved her far too much to point out that the bars they usually hung 'round were hardly examples of 'fresh air'. Especially when Theon decided to disregard the rules - as he often did - and light up, ignoring the way Sansa's face would wrinkle every time he did. 

About once a week, some combination of that original group - Robb, Theon, Sansa, Arya, and Gendry - would meet up for drinks, or just to simply be in each others' company. Robb was inherently suspicious of Gendry and wanted to keep an eye on him. Arya wanted to rub her relationship in his face, and also spend some time with her sister - making up for their teenage years in which they had not gotten on, according to Robb's dramatic shudder every time it was brought up - so she and Gendry were usually there. Theon couldn't always make it, since his advisor was a madman, and was prone to scheduling meetings at nine in the evening. 

Sansa also wasn't one to come every time. She had a busy social life, to the surprise of absolutely no one. Within three weeks, she had somehow become president of the Northern Independence Union - though despite this fact, and rumors of the so-called _legendary_  debates that drifted to the echelons of the graduate students - she actually got on quite well with Daenerys Targaryen. She was involved in a whole host of extracurriculars, and Theon had seen someone hand her a flyer, only for Sansa to thank the beaming, pockmarked freshman, and actually mark down the time of the event in her pastel blue day planner. That was just the sort of person Sansa was, and no one was particularly surprised, though her family seemed quite pleased to see her reverting back to her old ways, or so Robb told Theon. 

Theon's plan, upon dropping off Sansa that fateful night in September, had been to lie low for a bit. They were both busy people, it shouldn't have been too hard. Sansa had _said_  she was alright with what had happened, but just to be certain, Theon had planned on avoiding her for a bit. He should have realized such an idea was ludicrous. His life was far too intertwined with hers for that to ever work. The very next day he had walked into his kitchen to find Sansa there, making some sort of hangover remedy for Robb - one that Theon was ninety percent _positive_  was just a nasty placebo, only because Yara had pulled the same trick on him _thrice_  before he finally cottoned on - chatting to Jon about the effectiveness of Aegon the Conqueror's Northern Campaign - or lack thereof. 

And that had sort of been that. All of a sudden Sansa was _everywhere_. He supposed it was very likely that Sansa had always been everywhere, and he was only now attuned to it, but it was rather unnerving. Theon wouldn't say he minded though, because unsurprisingly, he quite enjoyed her company. Sansa was wicked smart, and had an even sharper wit. She was the only one Theon knew who could put Robb _and_  Arya in their places, and they seemed to adore her for it more than anything. She was kind and funny, and Theon had come to realize that he loved talking with her. 

The problem was, he had also seen her naked, and it was really hard to forget that fact, when he was trying to laugh at the insanely clever joke she had made about the Dornish inquisition. 

It didn't mean anything, not really. Theon tried to avoid hooking up with the same person more than once - for multiple reasons - but he had been known to make exceptions. The problem was, Sansa was _already_  an exception. Theon definitely didn't hook up with anyone he knew more than once. He couldn't even claim that Sansa had been a drunken mistake, since they had both been sober at the time. And he _knew_  she remembered that night, the way her eyes would sometimes darken and how she would tug her lower lip in between her bottom teeth, when Robb wasn't looking.

Theon didn't think she'd be _opposed_  if he propositioned her for another go. The problem was, he couldn't. Friends with benefits was a terrible decision - something he'd lectured Jon about relentlessly when the man first started up with Ygritte. Sure enough, Jon's heart had been broken, and Theon had been too busy trying to drag Jon out of that dark place he sometimes went, to even feel properly satisfaction that he had been right. Sure, the two of them were dating now, but it had been touch and go for a while.

Friends with benefits, Theon had decided long ago, was something dangerous. It almost always wound up with two people on wildly different pages - even if it didn't start out that way. Life wasn't one of those romantic comedies that Robb loved so much. Everything about those kinds of relationships were selfish. Theon had observed far too many crash and burn. He was hardly one to waffle about ruining a friendship - if it could be ruined so easily by sex, it wasn't that strong to begin with, just look at him and Robb - but there was something unsettling about opening up that level of intimacy to someone who already knew him in an intimate way. 

He could let someone know what he looked like starkers. He could let someone know that he cried watching Marley and Me, and had hugged Robb's dog, even though Theon had never owned a dog in his life. But the idea of the same person knowing both of those things was horrifying. And there was something dangerous to it too. What if the other person 'caught the feelings', as he'd heard Rickon refer to it once? What if _Theon_  did - as unlikely as it was? It left too much room for an unhealthy power balance, and Theon had done his best to rip all of those straight out of his life. 

Friends were...fuck, Theon's fingers twitched at his side, the hand wrapped around his pool cue tightening as he thought about it. Friends were hard to come by. Greyjoys weren't _naturally_  friendly. According to Yara, Theon's first word had been 'fuck', which checked out, but he also didn't believe a fucking word Yara said, because she was quite truly the worst. Theon had hung around people in high school, of course, but he would have never called them _friends_. They were a pretty terrible crowd, in all honesty. It had taken Theon an additional two years to pry himself free of that, and actually make it off of that shit island. One of the very first people Theon had met once he did, happened to be Robb Stark. As often as he moaned and pitched a fit about his roommate's antics, Theon would solemnly swear that he needed Robb like he needed air in his lungs. Friends weren't an easy thing for Theon, but his grip was iron once they were acquired. 

But the idea of giving that much of himself over to someone? Burdening them that much? It was terrifying. Never once had Theon actually been tempted by the idea. Not until Sansa Stark had waltzed out of his car, swollen lips and damp panties, the image never giving him a moment's peace.

The image of course, made it quite difficult for Theon to remember why he was so opposed to casual hook ups between friends, when Sansa Stark rolled her big blue eyes at him, lips wrapped tantalizingly around the neck of a beer bottle. 

Tonight it was just the two of them at The Golden Hand. It wasn't really Theon's type of place, but it had been Sansa's turn to decide, and they had thought that Jeyne would be coming with Robb. However, when Sansa had arrived at the boys' flat, she had found Theon sitting in the middle of the couch, watching Robb and Jeyne shout at each other across the room, his face a picture of complete disinterest. Sansa had commented that the whole scene looked like something straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Theon and Sansa had decided that there was no use in wasting the night, just because Robb and Jeyne had decided to go at it _again_ , so they had stuck to their original plans, and made their way to The Golden Hand. 

The nice thing about the bar, Theon was willing to admit, was that it was close enough to walk, rather than taking his car. Which meant neither of them needed to be a designated driver.The close distance to his flat made up for the way the hundreds of golden lights hurt his head. Theon could appreciate dedication to an aesthetic as much as the next guy, but surely this was overkill. To combat the oncoming headache, Theon was logically working up a pleasant buzz, having started a little drinking game with himself. Every time Sansa bent over the pool table, and he found his eyes zooming straight to her ass, he had to take a drink. Needless to say, he was almost finished with his second beer, and he had every intention of returning to the bar for a third. 

He really was trying not to be that guy. He'd heard a little bit more about Sansa's ex over the weeks, and how he had treated her. Theon had been appalled, especially knowing Sansa as he now did. It was unfathomable to think of anyone taking such kindness and trying to crush it with equal parts malice, but he could see the aftermath in her eyes. Theon didn't press, and Sansa rarely offered details, but it had all resolved Theon's intention to simply be a friend, and act as any friend or surrogate big brother would, since that was the role Robb had obviously expected him to play.

But Drowned _God_  it was difficult to stare at Sansa when on one hand, he wanted to hear how exactly her larger-than-life roommate had gotten from point a to point b - point a being where Margaery had intentionally set a toaster on fire, and point b the decision to walk down the hall completely starkers - when Theon was also determinedly not letting his gaze drift below her waist. He was trying not to let on just how desperately he wanted to know if Sansa’s panties were as lacy as they had been that night the month before.

"Hey."

Sansa's soft voice snapped Theon out of his reverie, and he blinked at her for a moment, taking in the way she was casually leaning against the pool table, her hip jutted out, emphasizing the sharp lines of her long legs. He forced his eyes to fly back to her face, but they rested on her lips for a beat too long - long enough to see them twitch into a knowing smirk.

"I was going to ask you where your head is at, but I think I can see that," Sansa said mischievously, allowing her eyes to flick purposefully down to Theon's crotch, before focusing on his gaze once again.

Flushing, Theon rubbed at the back of his neck.

"Shit, I'm sorry." 

Sansa shrugged easily, tossing her head slightly, so that her curtain of auburn hair fell back over her shoulder, exposing the elegant length of her neck, the tiny tattoo under her jaw that Theon had not paid nearly enough attention to that night in the car.

"Why are you sorry?" She asked curiously, crossing her ankles. Theon just raised his eyebrow.

"I think it was pretty obvious that I was thinking about you under me."

"So?" Sansa's voice was nonchalant, but Theon could detect the slight flush of her cheekbones.

"So, you're okay with me imagining you naked then?" Theon asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm and a touch of condescension. 

Sansa's eyes narrowed the slightest bit. "Well you must have a lot of faith in your imagination, since you haven't seen me naked yet."

_Yet_.

Theon groaned. "Sansa..."

She rolled her eyes again, pushing herself off of the pool table, and walking around so that she was now on the side opposite Theon, surveying the layout of the table, and calculating which move would reap the rewards she was clearly after.

"Don't worry, I know all about you and your ridiculous rules about friends and hooking up."

It was Theon's turn to roll his eyes. "My rule isn't ridiculous. It's perfectly logical. Miscommunication is the basis of like, half of the movies that Robb watches, and real life doesn't have happy endings like those."

Sansa pursed her lips together tightly, as if she was choking back some secret. Theon had to bite his own tongue to keep himself from asking her what it was. He had a feeling that he wouldn't really like the answer. 

"Besides, I thought you were into that true love bullshit."

He had said it with the express intention of getting a rise out of her, and hopefully getting Sansa away from the topic altogether, but the weeks of building a friendship had paid off for her, and done no good for Theon. She refused to rise to the bait, just _looking_  at Theon with those eyes that seemed like they could stare into his very soul. Like they knew, just from looking at him, how terrified Theon was of that fall, and how _easy_  it would be with someone that - 

"I'm a modern woman, Greyjoy," Sansa replied blithely. "I can hold multiple opinions on love." 

Theon huffed out something like a laugh and a groan of frustration. This conversation was....dangerous. It was awfully close to something that Theon didn't dare touch, knowing exactly what it would bring about. But it was difficult to remind himself of that as Sansa bent over the pool table again, aiming her pool cue, wiggling her ass ever so slightly as she did. She took aim, and sure enough, sent the balls scattering on the table - which Theon barely noticed, in his dismal attempts to adjust himself in his jeans.

"You're doing that on purpose," he accused half-heartedly.

"And?" Sansa said, an eyebrow arched. "What are you going to do about it?"

Drowned God, this woman was going to _kill_  him.

Sansa's expression took on a serious note, and she moved closer to Theon, though she kept a respectful distance. Theon appreciated it. Any closer and he might not be capable of coherent thought. Friend or not, Sansa truly was the most stunning woman he had ever seen. 

"Look. I'll be upfront. That night in your car was..." Sansa licked her lips slightly, and glanced away. Yeah, that about summed up Theon's thoughts on the matter too. "I wanted that. I want more of it. I'm not looking for a relationship, or a partner." There was a smile on her lips, but there was a strange touch of bitterness to it. Theon frowned and found himself wanting to chase it away with his own mouth. "I'm interested in _that_ , but I have some trust issues. You’re - I _trust_  you."

He let out a breath of air. Theon could certainly understand that, if nothing else. He just had no guarantee that he could trust _that_ , as Sansa so eloquently put it. It seemed like playing with fire, allowing someone to get so close to the darkness in his chest - allowing someone like _Sansa_  to get so close.

But there was a sudden shadow in her eyes, one that made Theon's stomach roil uncomfortably. He had seen a different sort of darkness in Sansa at times, but he had never been the one to put it there, as best he knew. In this moment, he sort of suspected he was the reason for the veneer of doubt settling over her gaze, the way her shoulders seemed to fall back, making her appear smaller - though no one could ever call Sansa a diminutive woman. Theon worked his jaw, glancing away, before looking back at her. He had drifted closer to Sansa, somewhere in the span of the conversation, without even realizing it. He let out a harsh breath, moving one hand from the pool cue to his hair, running his fingers through his messy curls.

"This is a bad decision," Theon warned Sansa softly, a promise as much as it was an acceptance.

There was a sparkle in Sansa's eyes, a promise of her own - _nothing good_  - and her lips simply curved into a smile.

"Are you going to make it or not?"

Theon's answer came in the form of his mouth crashing down upon hers, sucking at the sweetness of the rosé still on her lips, his hand firm at her waist, tugging her closer so that their bodies were pressed together tightly.

He had never been known to make the good ones.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


End file.
